


Blood Lily

by tokii



Series: 壊れた方 [28]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokii/pseuds/tokii
Summary: Saara is Damian's second in the League of Assassins, and she vows to follow him into the next life.Tag: Yellow (Fine)
Series: 壊れた方 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542805





	Blood Lily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophisthoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophisthoe/gifts).

Blood Lily

Blood flows from flesh, and I smile as my blade slides free. I laugh and turn to see if he’s watching. But it’s Damian Wayne. And this is work – he isn’t looking. He stands over a body and wipes his blade with a practiced movement against his sleeve. He turns toward me, his eyes narrowed. They’re gleaming. There’s no sight more beautiful than Damian’s eyes set against the crimson red of lifeblood. The bloodlust brings out the emerald. That, and the satisfaction that arises after besting an opponent.

He wrinkles his nose in irritation, “Mother considers these inferiors to be our equal? TT.” He slides the medallion from the floor onto the tip of his katana and flicks the hefty gold piece into his hand. “To think that she would offer us a challenge that proved to be quite…” he glances around at the meticulously placed carnage, a replicate of the Shadow Blades’ signature method, “…uneventful.”

“Framing an entire network of rival assassins is no small task; one certainly not unbecoming of the heir to the Demon.”

“And his second.” He flashes a grin.

I reciprocate his smile, “There is no one I’d rather serve.”

“Aside from my mother,” he retorts, flatly.

I try to warm the chill in the air, “I must have her trust if I am to serve you fully. It is only out of my loyalty to you.”

His expression softens, and the corner of his mouth raises ever so slightly. “If it is out of your duty to me, then so be it. But if you must ever choose between myself and my mother…” He pauses, his face hidden in shadow. I know him well though, and I hear the emotion masked far beneath the coolness of his tone. “Know that your loyalty to me is unto death.”

“Always, Fatir, and into the next life.”

“My mantle is to be the demon head; don’t you think your pet name is a little inappropriate?”

“Whatever could you mean?” I tease.

He shakes his head and drops his eyes, if only to conceal the blush darkening on his splattered cheek. “You may call me your ‘liege’ all you want, but my mother has read the Qur’an quite religiously.” He glances up and his eyes smile a vibrant green. “She’ll know that Surah Fatir refers to the 35th Sura… Fatir –”

“The Angels,” I breathe. The heir to the Demon, even in secret, can be nothing else.

“I cannot escape my fate, Saara.” His voice is low and scratched, like pebbles running down a shallow stream.

I bite my lip to contain the longing, and copper trickles onto my tongue. I lick my lip, “Then I’ll have to be more discreet.”

“I trust your discretion…” His hair blows about his face as he steps into the open window. He pauses for a moment, and salt and sweet sweat momentarily cover the scent of death at our feet.

••

His back is to me, but I know it’s him. I had watched him for so many years, I could recognize him from any angle, despite the number of years we may have spent apart. Damian runs his taped fingers through his wet locks, his shoulders curled forward around him, his forehead resting in his palm. He’s much larger now, much older. There’s a sadness about him, a shadow that clings to him. This is not the man that I was expecting to find. Though, he was just a boy when I knew him. A blade whizzes past my ear, splintering the wood beside my nose. He pushes himself up from the bench, rolling his shoulders out until he’s standing at his full height. Only a shadow can see a shadow. I grin and wrench the blade from the wall and fling it at his eye, the tip meeting nothing but air as he sidesteps the path of the knife. He’s quick, still. That’ll make this a fairer fight. He whips a katana from the sheath at his side and I draw my two daggers. In less than an instant his breath is hot on my face, my chest heaving as I look into his eyes. Both our blades are pressed to each other’s necks, pricking the skin just enough to have drawn blood. His eyes are hard, but they smile the same green. The same green of the spring fields we would spar on, the jade of the bedsheets we laid on. The boy with eyes of emeralds, the angel that masqueraded as a demon. Could the boy still be residing within the man?

“Hello, Fatir,” I whisper up at him.

His eyes widen, the emerald deepening. The bite of his blade lessens and his mouth twitches with unspoken words, his brows furrowing. “Saara?” He breathes, taking my chin between his thumb and index finger. He pulls my face up toward his, his katana dropping to his side. “How is this possible?” A slight sheen begins to wet the emeralds searching my face, producing a color I had not seen before in Damian’s eyes. Bloodlust always brought out the emerald. But this, it seems, turns the stone to a sea, bright and undulating with sparkling color. I had seen Damian take many lives, but I had never seen him cry.

“I promised I would follow you into the next life.” My tone is soft, hushed, my breath shaking. I could never understand the hold he had over me. I drop my blades and I tentatively touch his cheek. The man is not the boy, it seems. He is something more. Damian pulls me into him and presses his lips against mine. His tear drips to my chin and he pulls away, touching his nose to mine. Damian’s eyes are closed but I can’t bear to look at anything but him.

“Will you stay at my side?” He whispers, another tear slipping.

“Always,” I breathe onto his lips. “My fate is bound to yours… And I think it’s time that I acquaint myself with Damian Wayne, the man. Fatir that watches over Gotham.”

••

Damian pulls her closer, the scent of Blood Lilies still on her hair, even after all these years. He will make an allowance, he knows, for her. Maybe he isn’t fated to face his destiny alone. Damian decides in that moment that he’ll never let go.


End file.
